


The Wages of Death is Sin

by Seiberwing



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse)
Genre: Death, F/M, Grim Reapers, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Near Death Experiences, Post-Canon, Post-Coital Cuddling, Skeletons, but not the kind you're thinking of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 05:57:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14784800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seiberwing/pseuds/Seiberwing
Summary: “Wade, I’m a psychopomp now.”“That’s wonderful!” Wade squealed and pressed his hands to his face. “We have matching diagnoses! Can we get our certificates framed?”“No, not psychopath, psychopomp. I’m a Death.”---In which Deadpool follows his comics counterpart and falls in love with Death. Sort of. She's a part-timer.





	The Wages of Death is Sin

The first day after Deadpool got Vanessa back, they fucked. A lot. They stopped to eat twice, had a nap between 2:00pm and 3:23pm, took five breaks so Wade could get out a series of hard, hacking sobs of relief into an increasingly messy pillow while Vanessa stroked his bulgy scalp, and managed a snack break/sobbing break combo because the sound of the microwave oven triggered a flashback to an event that had now technically never happened.

Besides that, it was mostly fucking.

“Wade? There’s something I wanted to bring up,” Vanessa said, lounging back on the bed as she waited for her refractory period clock to tick back down. Wade’s healing factor meant that he could go a lot more times than she could, hence being grateful for the assistance of Strap-On Sally and its colleagues Dildo Dan and Vibrator Vivian.

Wade looked up from her aching lap, alert and gleeful. “Is it sounding? It’s not tagged on this fic but I’m up for—”

Vanessa stuck her tongue out at him. “It’s not sex related. It’s about a job. And about me dying.”

The grin dripped to a sad puppy face that Vanessa patted the side of. Cancer-warped or not, his uglification had done nothing to ruin the way his eyes could hold such deep emotion in them. “Ness, I don’t want to talk about that. You’re alive now. I fixed it. Trust me, I wouldn’t be sticking my dick in you so much if you weren’t.”

“Wade, I’m a psychopomp now.”

“That’s wonderful!” Wade squealed and pressed his hands to his face. “We have matching diagnoses! Can we get our certificates framed?”

“No, not psychopath, psychopomp. I’m a Death.”

“No, you’re not. Didn’t you see the mid-credits scene? Everyone should have seen that. Who goes to a Marvel movie and doesn’t stay through the—”

Vanessa put a finger to Wade’s lips and the Merc with a Mouth went silent. It was her ancillary superpower—she was the only person in the world who could get Wade Wilson to shut up on command.

“Death,” she said, emphasizing the final sound. “The Grim Reaper. Capital D. Well, one of the capital Ds. When I died, they had applications open for the position. I offered, they accepted. I’m one of the Deaths.”

“Mmmph?” said Wade, trying to move his head to escape the restricting finger. She wiggled her finger and Wade went from resisting it to sucking on it in a way he surely thought was alluring. It wasn’t. Vanessa didn’t really care.

“There’s different ones. A Death for trees, a Death for stars. The Death for dogs is adorable.”

Wade finally came up for air. “Is there a Death of Rats?”

“Yeah.”

“Yessss. I loved him in Hogfather. SQUEAK.” He went back to giving her a combo blow/handjob on her first two fingers, eyes closed, eager to get away from discussing the afterlife and back to life-affirming hardcore fucking.

Vanessa frowned. “Wade, just…here, okay?”

The soft, warm finger between Wade’s lips began to shrivel. His teeth closed lightly on bare bone and his eyes popped open wide to see the skin receding from his lover’s body.

Vanessa’s face had become a skull with pulsing lights in its sockets. Her equally skeletal body was wrapped in a long black cloak that covered her down to the ankles and an ankh hung from her neck. The skeleton’s free hand ran over his cheek, somehow giving the impression of smiling with no teeth.

The finger slipped free from Wade’s slack jaw. **I’m not dead, Wade. I promise. I’m something else.** Her voice pulsed through him. Still Vanessa’s, but Vanessa’s with something more, something visceral. Bold font, probably.

“This isn’t some grief related hallucination?”

**No.**

“That’s just what a grief related hallucination would say.”

**Wade. I’m the Death of Supers. They die so much and come back so much they had to make it a special position. I’m a part-timer. I reap the souls of superheroes, supervillains, minions, sidekicks, that kind of thing. The old one retired right before I died.**

Wade ran his hands over her, finding hard ribs under her torso, a firm sharp pelvic bone that brought with it grave disappointment. He was still gaping while his brain scrambled to keep up. “After Infinity Wars I’d retire too. But why’d you take up the job? I thought I was supporting both of us. What do you even pay Death in?”

Vanessa leaned close to him. Her skeletal forehead, cool as a day-old corpse, pressed to Wade’s as her hand smoothed down his shoulders.

**I wanted to be near you,** she whispered. **You can’t die but you’re a killer, Wade. You hunt bad guys, and a lot of those bad guys wear spandex and primary-colored body armor.**

Wade’s eyes lit up. A wide, open-mouthed smile of awe spread across his face. “I _do_ kill a lot of people,” he murmured in joy.

**Think of me the next time you mow down a crowd of HYDRA mooks.** Her knee pressed in against his inner thigh and her voice went right to his dick. **Look for me out of the corner of your eye when you detonate a gas tank. Find me in the reflection of blood cooling on the floor. I’ll be there watching you. Loving you. Cleaning up after you.**

“You’re amazing, Ness. I love you so much. I don’t even know how the hell this works but I love you so much.” He hugged her tightly, until her bones started leaving hard dents in his most sensitive places.

“You’re kinda pokey like this, though,” he muttered into what was probably her clavicle. “Can you go a little more Brian Pulido and a little less Terry Pratchett?”

**Who?**

“Lady Death. Sexy Death. There's a link to it in the end notes."

Vanessa laughed. Her outfit decreased in surface area by 90 percent. **How’s that?**

Wade ran his hands up her chest, somehow finding full physics-defying breasts despite a lack of visible flesh. “Now _there’s_ the weird fanservice boner I’m looking for.”

—

Much later, Dopinder watched from the taxi as his idol/mentor/object of terror and disgust mowed down a horde of serum-enhanced neo-Nazis, and wondered why Deadpool’s new battle cry was “Tell Ness we’re out of milk!”

**Author's Note:**

> [Lady Death and what she looks like](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lady_Death), for reader reference.


End file.
